51 Things for John
by Ashtrees
Summary: 51 things John needs to know about being in love with man with Asperger's Syndrome.
1. Introduction

_I don't own Sherlock_

_This fic has been inspired by a relationship guide book called 22 Things a Woman Must Know if she Loves a Man with Asperger's Syndrome by Rudy Simone. The chapter titles in this fic have been taken from Ms Simone's book and used as prompts._

_Edit added 3.10.13: I've changed the title of the fic from 22 Things to 51 Things. I feel that the book focuses too much on the negatives (well, it is a guide book) when Asperger's Syndrome had so many positives to it,, and I don't want to paint a false picture in my fic. So, on top of the 22 things written by Rudy Simone I will add 29 positive things based on Dr Tony Attwood and Dr Grey's list of things to be admired about Asperger's Syndrome. Please visit Dr Attwood's website and search: The Discovery of "Aspie" criteria if you're interested. It's refreshing to read what the criteria for Asperger's Syndrome would look like it were written in a more balanced way. _

_Thanks for reading!_

**Introduction**

It was Christmas Day once again and once again John found himself being angry with Sherlock.

It was stupid, really, a petty argument over semantics. John had been washing and peeling vegetables in the kitchen sink, when Sherlock had wanted to wash his hands after eating an apple.

"Look, I'm busy here!" John had snapped when Sherlock had tried to snake around him to reach the tap. For reasons John couldn't quite recall (but he suspected a mild amount of alcohol had been involved), two weeks ago he had insisted that for once he would cook the Christmas dinner, saving Mrs Hudson having to do it. "Go wash your hands in the toilet."

Toilet/bathroom/bathroom sink/toilet sink - they all meant the same thing to John and could be used interchangeably. They were interchangeable to Sherlock too. Except when he was an irritable mood, as he was that day. He took immediate offence.

"You -you want me to wash my hands in the _toilet_? That's an insult I've not heard before."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

The mood continued to go down hill from there.

When the dinner was finally ready Sherlock refused to sit down at the table, insisting that he was not hungry.

"I've spent all morning cooking it," John replied through gritted teeth. "You could at least have some."

"And why would I do that?" Sherlock sighed, twisting a key on his violin's neck. "I don't like turkey. I assumed you knew that."

"Sher-"

"Leave him be, John," Mrs Hudson interrupted, placing a hand on the doctor's arm. "It's Christmas, so let's not have anymore arguments. I know I'm going to enjoy it."

John went to bed earlier than usual that night, leaving Sherlock to play mournful tunes on his violin. No doubt the detective would stay up most of the night and sleep on the sofa again, rather than joining John in their double bed.

Christmas was a rather lonely time for John. He always maintained that Christmas was supposed to be a romantic time for couples, but Sherlock merely scoffed at the concept; Christmas was just a note on a calendar to him. To John it highlighted everything that was wrong with their relationship.

As John rolled over to face the wall his eyes caught sight of the small pile of presents stacked on the floor by the chest of drawers. He had briefly entertained the notion that it would be nice to open their presents in bed, but any hope of that happening had been dismissed when he had half woken at 3.30 AM as Sherlock had fallen sleepily into bed. He knew then that he was witnessing one of Sherlock's classic avoidant strategies of staying awake until the early hours and then sleeping through whatever situation he hoped to hide from. He had played the same trick on John's birthday as well as he own. Of course, it was normal for the detective to stay up late or forego sleep altogether, but he was usually awake, up and dressed before John had even started stirring. John felt that he would never understand why Sherlock hated such situations so much.

It was the present on top of the pile which interested John the most. It had been posted through the door two days ago and the label had been signed in a immaculate curly handwriting - M.H. Mycroft Holmes. That was reason enough for John to want to open the present as he had never received gifts from the elder Holmes before, who had never particularly looked the present giving type.

It was the size and weight of a short book. Perhaps sending John a Christmas present was Mycroft's way of saying, "I accept that you are my little brother's partner." John had already decided that it would simply be a token gift. A symbol of being thought of, rather than being a gift that had any real thought put in it.

John clicked on the lamp, reached for the present and began to open it. He carefully peeled back the sellotape. His guess was correct. It was indeed a book, a bright pink book with a large red 22 in the centre. John tugged off the remainder of the patterned green wrapping, allowing it to drop to the floor, with his eyes fixed on the title.

22 Things a Woman Must Know If She Loves a Man With Asperger's Syndrome. John rolled his eyes -a relationship book.

"I am not a woman!" John said loudly, as if Mycroft was present to hear his protests.

But, nevertheless he fell back against the pillows to have a read. John had to admit he felt a little dubious about it, given that it was written in an easy going American-English with hearts all over the cover. But, the author did have Asperger's herself and in the introduction she assured her readers that despite the title the advice given would be applicable to any kind of relationship. It was short and to the point with quotes from interviewed women and their partners. The first chapter was titled: _There will be loneliness. _John read on.


	2. There Will Be Loneliness

_Thank you for reading and reviewing. _

**Chapter One: There will be loneliness**

_From John__'__s perspective_

It had been a long day at work for John, saturated and compact with patients for a hefty nine hour shift, with one nurse off sick and a doctor on holiday, with ten minutes to gulp down a sandwich in the middle of the day. But, he had to admit that his nostalgic side was warmed by the thought that at least his partner would most probably be waiting safe and sound at home when arrived back himself.

When John had finally trudged back into flat 221 B, he was unsurprised to see that Sherlock was conducting a chemistry experiment in the kitchen. John went over to kiss his partner's cheek, but was warded off with a wave from Sherlock's long pale hand.

"I'm busy," the detective grunted.

"I've had a rough day at work, in case you're interested."

Sherlock ignored him.

"Do you want to watch a film tonight?"

"No," came the terse reply.

John swallowed back the bitter and angry lump in his throat. Becoming partners had only changed their relationship, it hadn't changed Sherlock in the slightest. All too often John had to put up with being ignored; deep down John knew that Sherlock would always be emotionally distant.

After manoeuvring himself around Sherlock and the science equipment in order to make himself a light dinner (Sherlock didn't want anything), John watched the film alone.

_From Sherlock__'__s perspective_

I am beginning to wonder if my partner has attachment issues. Far too often John acts unnecessarily clingy and demands more time and attention from me, more than I feel comfortable giving.

I had warned John very early on in our relationship that I can go for days on end without speaking a single word and that I prefer to spend time alone. That should have made it clear to him that the most time we would be spending together would whilst solving cases.

But, John had misunderstood and asked if I suffered from depression.

That annoyed me. It is another thing which occurs far too often - people don't seem to understand what I say. Lestrade, Molly, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and even John; they all look at me as if I have spoken a load of gibberish. People have blamed it on my autism. I tell them to leave my autism alone and to clean out their ears and pick up a dictionary instead. _That _they seem to understand.

I thought that John would always understand that I will need to withdraw from him on a regular basis, probably daily. There is only so much John I can cope with, without being overwhelmed. But, I can see from the way he is watching the television with his shoulders hunched that he is upset with me. I have disappointed him once again.

When he asked if I wanted to watch a film I said no, because I didn't. He never said that he wanted me to watch it with him as a means of being together.

It's his own fault for not being specific. Communication is a two-way process and it is highly unfair that I should have to do most of the work in deciphering everything he says and decoding his body language for hidden messages.

Does John realize just how much of my Mind Palace is taken up with the rules of body language and facial expression and the keys to understanding tones of voices?

No, he doesn't. And he doesn't know just how much mental energy I burn up working it all out in my head.

For a moment I consider sitting down in my armchair to watch the film. But, I can't. I have started an experiment and I can't leave something only half done. John will have to wait.


	3. Loyalty

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._

It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

Dr Watson after being shot in The Adventure of the Three Garridebs and Holmes panics.

**Loyalty **

_From Sherlock's perspective _

Crime scenes are fascinating. Together the small details come together to tell a story of what took place. Some people like to keep the humanity in such situations. Inspector Lestrade will always see the victims and criminals as people, and try to riddle out their motivations from there. Molly Hooper likes to imagine the corpses talking to her, perhaps apologizing for their rotten appearance and stench. Molly says it's the only way she keep going in her job without feeling overwhelmed by despair and disgust. By remembering they once had families, worries, hobbies and jobs, she can keep doing her's.

But, I am different. I prefer to see victims as mere factors in an equation. Emotions only cloud my judgement and perspective. This was proved the day John was shot.

He was knocked to the ground by the force and I ran to his side, despite the danger.

Love is a both a motivator for viciousness and stupidity.

"John!" I yelled, completely forgetting that there was a woman with a gun standing behind me, ready to pull the trigger again. She had already killed once; John would make two. I should have made the third. But, she didn't fire a second time. Too entranced by the scene before her, perhaps.

However, John was not dead, and not even badly hurt. A flesh wound. I would say that I had overacted, but I am not fond of change. Cases have become routine for me and when they dry up I become irritable. I hate seeing people become older, shops rearranging their stock, Molly altering her hairstyle…so, if John died…

Although, chaos swirls around me, John never changes. John is my one fixed point in an ever changing world. He is solid, sturdy, predictable and reliable. Even dying young would be too radical for him.

He's my anchor, blogger and guide. He's not afraid to tell me what to say and what not to say. It is because of him I have more cases than ever, thanks to his blog. Without him to represent me in a kinder light, I would fade into obscurity. I can't do what he can do.

Lestrade once commented that through his blog John creates a window for people to see me and understand me, when I would otherwise be seen merely as a robotic sociopath. A window can be looked through on either side. I have friends in the plural because of John.

"You should count yourself lucky that he isn't dead!" I snarled at the woman. "If you had killed him you would also be dead by now!"

_From John's perspective_

It's worth being with Sherlock just for that moment, where for a second his mask was flung aside and I could see the fear, concern and love underneath.

I've never doubted his friendship; I can no longer doubt his love for me.

But, what an IDIOT!

After checking on me, by diving in the path of the nasty woman and her _gun_, he went marching up to her, shouting and yelling. She was so shocked that Sherlock was able to knock the gun from her loose grip.

He could have easily been shot himself, but he was more concerned for me. Oddly enough, I've never really put loyalty down as one of Sherlock's strengths, but he has always been a loyal friend to me. Even when I've been at my lowest and generally unpleasant company, Sherlock has never held a grudge against me. We've had more good times together than bad ones.

I shan't forget his loyalty again.


End file.
